


Starting Over

by SunriseRose1023



Series: When You Come Back To Me Again [5]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Secrets, Gen, Memory Loss, Pain, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Recovered Memories, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseRose1023/pseuds/SunriseRose1023
Summary: You're doing your best to get back to a life you don't remember when your dad offers you a job. You travel and meet some new people, and one meeting sparks an idea in your brain that you didn't expect.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: When You Come Back To Me Again [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1283630
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Starting Over

You didn’t understand how you could possibly be tired after being in a year-long coma, but you were. You couldn’t fall asleep at night without Betty nearby, and even though you knew she was terrified every time you closed your eyes and you hated doing it to her, you kept a tight hold of her hand until your body relaxed into sleep. 

You shocked the doctors during one of their many examinations. Your father had been in the room then, watching with wide eyes as you climbed out of bed and walked across the room to get a book Betty had left you. She usually made herself scarce when your father was around, something you planned to dig into at a later time. You stopped on the way back to your bed, book in your hand, raising an eyebrow at the gaping mouths around you. 

You shouldn’t be able to walk. You shouldn’t even be able to shift position in the bed. The physical therapists came and just watched you, fascinated with how your muscles hadn’t atrophied, how you were just as strong, if not _more_ , as you were a year ago. 

That fact left Betty uneasy. 

You were released from the hospital a year and two days after you’d been brought in. The doctors had run every test they could think of, but when everything came back normal, you begged for them to let you go home. 

Despite your father’s many pleas for you to live with him so he could take care of you (which you knew _really_ meant his staff could look after you), you moved into Betty’s apartment. It was a small but quaint space, just enough room for the two of you. She’d taken a sabbatical from her job, so she was able to help you settle in and get comfortable, while also doing her best to help you fill in the blanks. 

But you could tell she was holding something back. 

You didn’t know what, exactly. Your father was also acting weird, and you were determined to get to the bottom of it, but you were also trying to adjust to a life you had no memory of. 

* * *

Betty found you in the little breakfast nook, curled up on the bench seat, watching the rain fall through the window. 

“Hi, honey.”

You smiled over your shoulder at her, then turned your face back to the window. Betty walked over to stand behind you, gently massaging your shoulders. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, jumping the slightest bit at the lightning that flashed. Betty continued her gentle movements. 

“I didn’t know we were in for a storm today.”  
“I thought it would snow some more.”  
“The temperature’s supposed to drop later.”

You nodded again, leaning back against her. Betty didn’t say anything, and you were quiet when you spoke. 

“It’s so weird.”  
“What is?”  
“Being awake.”

Her hands faltered just a bit, and you shook your head before you went on. 

“I feel like Rip Van Winkle or something. Like I just went to sleep, and then woke up almost ten years later.”

Betty nodded. 

“It’s got to be jarring.”  
“It is.”

You licked your lips, then spoke softly. 

“Have we been close? In my missing years, I mean. Like we always were?”

Betty smiled, moving to sit beside you on the bench. 

“Yes. You’re my best friend, and you always have been.”

You smiled, turning towards her and leaning your head on your hand. 

“Was it just us?”  
“The Ross girls against the world, baby.”

You gave a soft laugh, then shook your head. 

“Did …”

You sighed and Betty gently squeezed your ankle. 

“What?”

You lifted your eyes to hers.

“Have I had a boyfriend or anything? I mean … no one’s come by since I woke up, so I assume I’m single now, but … have I been single for the past eight years?”

Betty swallowed, trying to keep her face from showing what her heart was screaming. She looked out the window again as she spoke. 

“You went on a few dates here and there.”  
“But nothing … steady?”

Betty smiled as she looked over her shoulder at you. 

“Steady? What are you, fourteen and in _Grease_?”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Seriously.”

Betty licked her lips, glancing away as she thought of the man who had sat beside her in the hospital, absently gripping her hand as he begged God for you. You deserved to know the truth. You deserved to remember Steve and how much you apparently loved him. She turned to you, taking in a breath.

_“I don’t want to have to separate the two of you. But make no mistake—I will do whatever it takes to keep my daughter safe.”_

As your father’s voice rang in her mind, Betty swallowed again, making herself smile, lifting a hand to smooth over your hair. 

“I don’t know, honey. You may have had a piece on the side you never told me about.”

You laughed. 

“Now we _both_ know I could never keep anything from you.”

Betty smiled even as her heart was breaking. She stood up, turning away from you before she burst into tears, making her way to the refrigerator. 

“You hungry?”  
“I could eat.”  
“French toast?”

You smiled. 

“Sounds good. Can I help?”  
“Nah. Let me handle it.”  
“Well, I’ll fix lunch. Or dinner, if you want.”

Betty nodded. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Betty had offered to take you by the shop you’d opened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go. The shop had been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember, but to think of it now … 

You couldn’t remember it. Not the inventory, the books, whether or not you had any other employees. It was a complete blank, and you had decided you’d be better off to leave it that way. You put Betty in charge of selling it, and you set your mind on finding a new purpose. 

You found it in the most surprising place. 

You walked into Betty’s apartment and put your purse on the kitchen counter. You rubbed your hands together and blew on them, rubbing your arms before you made your way to the coffee pot. 

_“Do you drink coffee, Miss Ross?”_

You whirled around, eyes darting around the room. You’d heard the voice as though it was right in your ear, but you were alone in the apartment. You stepped away from the coffee pot, rubbing your hands along your arms as you walked into the living room, coming to a hard stop when the door opened.

Betty set her bags down and reached a hand up to fluff her hair, stopping when she saw you. 

“Honey? Are you okay?”

Your eyes were wide when you looked to her. She hurriedly set the remainder of her stuff aside, walking over and taking your hands. 

“What is it?”

You shook your head, looking up at her. 

“I don’t … I don’t know.”  
“What happened?”

You shook your head again. 

“I was … going to get some coffee. But I … I heard this voice.”  
“A voice?”

You nodded, studying the room over Betty’s shoulder. 

“Like whoever had said it was standing right next to me, but there’s no one here.”  
“Do you think it was a memory or something?”

You nodded. 

“I think so. It had to be, right?”

You stared into your sister’s blue eyes, and Betty smiled as she moved a hand to brush some hair back from your face. 

“You’ve been through a traumatic event, Y/N. You’ve lost a big chunk of your life. It’s only natural that lost memories would start returning.”  
“And have no rhyme or reason with them?”

Betty nodded. You sighed, and she rubbed your shoulder before walking towards the kitchen. You followed her, taking a seat in the breakfast nook while Betty pulled out her tea kettle—an old one that whistled when it was ready—and put it on the stove. She turned back to you and nodded. 

“What was it?”

You smiled. 

“I was reaching for your coffee pot and I heard a guy asking me if I drank coffee.”

You shrugged your shoulders, then sighed. 

“So that leads me to believe that, if nothing else, I’ve probably been asked out for coffee _at least_ once.”

You said the words with a laugh, shaking your head as you looked down at your hands. Betty closed her eyes and sighed, licking her lips before looking to you. After a quiet moment, you lifted your head and smiled. 

“Guess what I did today.”  
“What did you do?”  
“I got a job.”

Betty’s eyebrows raised and you made a face. 

“Well … sort of.”  
“Details.”

You glanced back at your hands and pressed your lips together, then met her eyes. 

“I’m going to be working with Dad.”  
“In his office?”  
“No, in his campaign.”

Betty’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Campaign for what?”

You couldn’t help the smile. 

“Dad’s going to run for President, Betty. And I’m going to help him.”

You watched the color drain from Betty’s face as she reached out a hand, fumbling for the back of one of the chairs, pulling it out and sitting down hard. You shook your head, getting up from your spot and walking over to her. 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Betty shook her head, closing her eyes as she gave a shaky breath. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands and you swallowed before you sat in the chair beside her. 

“Betty, what’s going on between you and Dad?”

She didn’t move and you shook your head. 

“I know something’s up. Did something happen while I was out?”

She lifted her head and met your eyes. 

“You weren’t _‘out,’_ Y/N. You weren’t _asleep_. You were _in a coma_. There was nothing they could do to wake you up, and Dad wasn’t there.”

You blinked and she went on. 

“ _I_ was there with you. I spent every day at your bedside. Dad was there once. _Once_ , Y/N.”  
“I didn’t know that.”  
“Of course not, because who’s going to go against the General and tell you? He was so busy, trying to bring the people who hurt you to justice and—“  
“Whoa, whoa, what?”

Betty looked to you, blue eyes blazing. You shook your head. 

“What do you mean ‘the people who hurt me?’ I was in an accident, wasn’t I?”

Betty swallowed, blinking before she nodded. 

“Right. Yes.”

You blinked, shaking your head once, speaking softly.

“Are you lying to me?”

Betty met your eyes, and you could almost see her mind churning. She licked her lips, then shook her head. 

“Dad was … he didn’t want to believe it was just an accident. He thought maybe someone ran you off the road, or did a hit-and-run or something. So he went on these … wild goose chases. No matter what I said, he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t let it go. And I … I just felt really alone.”

She looked down at her hands, tears in her eyes. 

“I just haven’t forgiven him for … I guess I feel like he abandoned me when I needed him the most.”

You sighed. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I know it must not be easy with me running to him all the time. And now I’m going to be working with him.”

Betty smiled as she looked up at you. 

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ll get over it. Won’t be the first time ol’ Thunderbolt has let me down.”

You smiled a sad smile and she shook her head. 

“So tell me about this campaign thing. What are you going to be doing?”  
“To be quite honest, I think I’m going to be the star attraction.”

Betty raised her eyebrow and you shrugged. 

“Sleeping Beauty, for lack of a better term? The princess in the tower who was in a coma but is now awake, her Daddy’s pride and joy.”

You sighed. 

“I guess I’ll garner sympathy votes if nothing else.”

Betty swallowed. 

“You don’t have to do that.”  
“Oh, I know. But he’s going to travel all over the place campaigning, plus do all his Secretary of State duties, and he asked me to go with him.”

You shrugged your shoulders, looking down at your hands. Betty’s hand reached over to take one of yours and you lifted your head to meet her eyes. She smiled at you, moving her other hand to pat yours. 

“I think it’ll be good for you.”  
“Really?”  
“Really. You can travel with Dad, see the world. Win the hearts of everyone you come in contact with.”

You rolled your eyes, gently shoving her shoulder and she leaned backwards, a wide smile on her face. She nodded, patting your hand again. 

“It’ll be good.”

You nodded, giving her a smile as you lifted a shoulder. 

“And maybe putting my mind to work will bring back some memories.”

Betty smiled. 

“Maybe so, honey.”

She patted your hand one more time, then stood up, walking to the stove, pulling the whistling tea kettle off the burner. You nodded when she turned and raised an eyebrow at you, watching as she fixed two cups of tea. She walked back to sit beside you, setting one of the cups down in front of you, lifting her own to her lips and gently blowing on it. 

_“What is that?”  
“Tea.”  
“Is it any good?”_

_You smiled, lifting the cup to eye-level._

_“Try a sip.”  
“I don’t know about—“  
“I don’t have cooties. You can drink after me.”  
“It’s not your cooties I’m worried about.”_

_You laughed, bringing the cup back down._

_“Such a baby.”  
“What did you just say?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Oh, those were fighting words. Give me that damn cup.”_

You blinked as the laughter trailed off in your ears. You stared at the cup before lifting your eyes to Betty, who raised an eyebrow as she sipped her tea. 

“You okay?”

You swallowed and nodded, lifting the cup and gently blowing on it. You’d heard that same male voice, playful and gentle this time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask your sister about it. Instead, you stared into your cup, waiting until the steam had settled before you took a sip.

* * *

Thaddeus announced his intent to run for President during a gala. He brought you up on stage with him and you smiled at the crowd, laughing at the appropriate points during his speech, keeping an eye on Betty as she stayed near the back of the room, deep in conversation with the man you recognized from the hospital, the one who’d been your nurse. 

After the success of the D.C. gala, Thaddeus put you in charge of planning another one in New York City. You and Betty took the train to Manhattan—she’d insisted on going with you, and you didn’t feel like arguing—and you stared out the window the entire time. 

You’d booked a hotel in the middle of Times Square because you loved it there, tourists be damned. You stood in front of the hotel, amidst the hustle and bustle, closing your eyes and breathing in the cool air. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, setting off on your errands. 

You’d convinced Betty to go shopping, because you felt smothered by all her hovering. You were going to the venue where the gala would be held tomorrow night, just to make sure the decorations were coming along to your standards and to double-check the menu. 

You walked by the Brooklyn Bridge, coming to a stop and staring at it. You felt what you can only describe as a magnetic pull, and you started walking across it. You stopped and walked to the bridge’s side, staring out over Brooklyn. 

_“See, there’s all these little sections that make up Brooklyn. DUMBO, Coney Island, Bensonhurst. But over there, down by the port? That’s Red Hook. That’s my neck of the woods.”_

You stumbled to one of the benches that were spaced out along the bridge and you sat down. You put your head in your hands and winced at the ache throbbing behind your temples. 

That same voice had been echoing in your ear. Whoever it was, he was from here. And you’d apparently visited New York with him, so that he could show you where he was from. 

“Excuse me. Are you okay?”

You lifted your head, eyebrows raising when you noticed that the man in front of you was wearing sunglasses and holding a long white cane. You sniffled, unaware that you’d even been crying. You nodded, then spoke softly. 

“I’m fine.”  
“No offense, but it doesn’t sound that way.”

You smiled, sniffling again before looking up at the man. 

“Would you like to sit?”  
“Thank you.”

He sat beside you, folding up his cane. He sighed, shifting as far back as he could go. 

“I had a long night and slept through my stop on the subway. Decided I’d get some fresh air before I tried again.”

You smiled. 

“Coffee might help.”  
“You asking me out?”

You laughed. 

“No offense, but I don’t even know your name.”

He smiled as he shifted, holding out a hand.

“Matt Murdock.”  
“Y/N Ross.”

His face faltered just a bit and you couldn’t stop the smile. 

“So you’ve heard of me.”  
“Guilty.”

You gave a quiet sigh, turning back and staring out over the city. 

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. It was … touch and go for a while, right?”  
“That’s what they tell me.”

The two of you were quiet, and Matt leaned closer to you. 

“You’re based in D.C., right? What brings you here?”  
“My father. He’s announcing his Presidential candidacy at a gala we’re throwing tomorrow night.”  
“Oh, I think we got an invite to that.”  
“Oh?”

He smiled when you looked back at him. 

“I’m a partner at Nelson and Murdock.”  
“Ugh, you’re a lawyer?”

He laughed, picking up on the playful tone of your voice. 

“Guilty again, I’m afraid.”  
“And here I thought we could be friends.”

You gave a dramatic sigh and he laughed again. Your phone chirped in your pocket and you brought it out, still unused to the sophisticated iPhone. You sighed as you read the alarm that you were needed at the venue in five minutes. You resigned yourself to being late and turned to your partner on the bench. 

“I hate to run out on good company, but …”  
“Oh no, it’s fine. _Most_ people take off running when they find out I’m a lawyer.”

You laughed, moving to lay a hand on his arm. 

“To tell you the truth, I shouldn’t have even been out here. I got distracted and now I’ll be late.”  
“Where are you headed off to?”

You spouted off the name of the venue where the gala would be and Matt smiled. 

“That’s not too far from my office. Would you mind some company?”

You found yourself smiling. 

“I think I’d like that.”

* * *

Betty sipped her champagne as she looked over the room. She was glad you chose this venue in Hell’s Kitchen, instead of one in a different part of the city. Betty lowered her head as a pain stuck in her heart when she thought of Harlem and the last time she’d been there, after Bruce had destroyed it. She shook her head and finished the last of her champagne, eyes searching for you. 

You were wearing a pale pink gown, sequins sparkling in the light as you laughed and spoke with a small crowd. Betty smiled when she saw you, her smile widening when you spotted her, a wide smile coming over your face. You left the crowd that had gathered around you, making your way to Betty, hugging her. 

“Hi!”  
“Hey, sweetie. You look gorgeous.”

You waved a hand at her, looping your arm through hers as you turned and looked over the room. 

“Good turnout, huh?”  
“Great turnout.”

You nodded, a smile coming to your lips.

“Can I tell you something?”  
“Anything.”  
“Do you see that guy over there?”  
“Narrow it down for me, babe. There’s a hundred guys over there.”

You smiled. 

“The one with the sunglasses on.”  
“Seriously? Who wears—“  
“He’s blind, Betty.”

She winced, cheeks growing red, and you patted her arm. 

“It’s okay. We met earlier, just so happened to have this gala in common.”  
“Y/N.”

Betty blinked at you and you shrugged. 

“He’s a nice guy and we just talked. Had a good conversation, that’s all.”  
“But you … want to have another conversation?”

You pursed your lips, shrugging again. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.”

Betty blinked as she looked out over the crowd, eyes landing on the man in the dark suit. He had on a blood red tie, and a white cane that he kept close to himself. Another man was standing beside him, lips moving as he spoke, making Betty wonder if this man was relaying details about the room to the blind man. 

“His name is Matt. Matt Murdock.”

Betty’s eyes widened.

“Of Nelson and Murdock?”

You nodded and she gave a shaky sigh. Betty knew that while you were in the hospital, the General had been watching the Nelson and Murdock firm closely, once he’d found out about the masked vigilante who frequented Hell’s Kitchen. There was no way a blind man could be a vigilante, so the General eventually gave up. But Betty had come too far to lose you now. 

“Maybe you could have another conversation … if we weren’t headed to L.A. tomorrow.”

You groaned.

“I know. I just love New York. If I could live anywhere in the world, I think it would be right here.”

You took in a breath as your vision went fuzzy, that gentle male voice sounding in your ear. 

_“You know … someday when I’m ready to retire, I want to come back here.”  
“To Brooklyn?”  
“Yeah. Think you could make it as a New Yorker?”  
“Long as you’re here, I think I can manage.”_

You groaned, closing your eyes before opening them again. 

“Damn it, Y/N, talk to me before I make a scene.”

You groaned again, grabbing Betty’s hand and squeezing it. With her focus on you and your eyes closed, you and Betty both missed Foggy Nelson’s eyes on you, a few seconds before he murmured to the man at his side, who gripped his cane just a bit tighter. 

You blinked and loosened your hold on Betty, wincing when your eyes met hers. She shook her head and you gave a quiet whine. 

“Hurts.”  
“What does?”  
“My head.”  
“Do you want to go?”

You nodded, and Betty pulled you to her side, leading you out the back of the venue. You took in great gulps of air when you and Betty burst through the door, and you left her behind to walk a little, wrapping your arms around yourself in the cool night air. After a moment, Betty spoke. 

“What just happened?”

You shook your head, and she stepped closer to you. 

“No, you … you were in physical pain, Y/N. You kept making this quiet … _wounded_ sound and I can’t … god, it hurt to hear it.”

You gave a shaky breath and turned to face her, and her eyes softened at the tears slipping down your cheeks. You shook your head when she walked to you, reaching shaking hands to take hold of her arms. 

“Sweetheart, talk to me.”  
“It hurts.”  
“What hurts?”

You let out a sob as you lifted your eyes to your sister’s. 

“Remembering.”

Betty shook her head, worried eyes locked onto you. You let out another sob, gripping her arms tighter. 

“I keep … hearing voices and … I might see something, but it … it hurts. It hurts so bad.”

Betty pulled you into her arms and you put your forehead on her shoulder as you cried. She gently rubbed your back, patting your hair as she whispered to you. 

“It’s okay, sweet girl. Just breathe. I’m here.”

You gave a slow, shuddered breath, and Betty swallowed hard as she closed her eyes before her own tears could fall.

* * *

_“Were you scared? When you had to take the plane down?”_

_He nodded, hand clasped with yours. You spoke again, just as softly._

_“What did you think?”_

_He sighed, leaning back as he shook his head._

_“It was weird. I knew what I had to do, and I knew the repercussions. I knew I wasn’t making it out of there. It was absolutely terrifying, but Peggy … she talked me through it. We talked like we were going to see each other later that day.”  
“That must have made it worse.”  
“In a way, yes. Because I never knew what my last word to her may be. But then again, the last thing I ever heard was the voice of the woman I loved, and that … it made it all seem worth it.”_

You blinked your eyes open when your body jolted sideways. You turned your head to see your sister beside you, white-knuckling the armrest between you. 

“Betty?”  
“I’m fine. Just a little—“

She gasped as you were jolted again, and she squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling forcefully through her teeth. 

“Turbulence.”  
“Are we there yet?”

She nodded, and you realized the jolting was partially turbulence, partially descent. You shifted in your seat and leaned your head back, closing your eyes. 

“Were you dreaming?”

You kept your eyes closed as you nodded to answer Betty’s question. You didn’t offer up any details, so she spoke again. 

“Memory or dream?”  
“I honestly can’t tell. It seemed like a memory, but we were talking about … god, Betty, I don’t even know. I think it was a plane crash? A suicide mission? And then he said something about the woman he loved and he wasn’t talking about me, so …”

You made a frustrated noise. 

“I think I’m confusing reality with a movie or something.” 

Betty swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment before she opened them again. 

“‘He?’”

You nodded. 

“It’s a man’s voice. Sometimes I can see … like his hands, but I can never make out his face. I don’t know who he is, but I keep hearing him.”  
“Nice voice?”

You gave a quiet laugh. 

“It is. Kind of deep, very masculine. Slight accent.”  
“Hmm.”

You elbowed her and Betty laughed, sucking in a breath as the plane jolted one last time as it landed. When the plane came to a stop, you and Betty both gave long exhales of relief. The two of you stood and Betty took your bags out of the overhead compartment. You pulled your suitcase behind you, smiling and nodding to the flight attendants and the pilot as you and Betty made your way into the airport. The two of you made it out of the airport, where a car was waiting, and Betty pulled her sunglasses out of her purse. 

“Welcome to L.A., my dear.”

* * *

You sipped a glass of champagne, sighing as you set the glass on a small table. You picked your skirt up and made your way out of the ballroom, walking down a hall and stopping to look out a window. 

“Miss Ross?”

You turned at the sound of the feminine voice to find a tall, slender woman coming your way. Her hair was cut short, and she had a smile on her face, her golden gown sparkling in the low lights of the hallway. She held out a hand to you, shaking yours as she introduced herself. 

“Hope Van Dyne.”  
“Y/N Ross.”

Hope stepped around you and you gave a quiet laugh. 

“I enjoy parties like this, but it …”  
“Gets a little stuffy, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, smiling at the woman smiling back at you. Hope crossed her arms as she looked out the same window you’d been staring. 

“It’s hard to see the moon through all the smog, but it’s still a pretty night.”  
“It is.”

You felt an itch between your shoulder blades and you turned to look at the woman beside you. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

She smiled as she answered, keeping her blue eyes trained out the window. 

“Hope.”  
“Do I know you, Hope?”

She shook her head. 

“No, we’ve never met.”

You swallowed, glancing down the hallway, looking back when Hope gave a quiet chuckle. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Miss Ross.”  
“You can understand my apprehension.”  
“More than you realize.”

Hope sighed as she turned to face you. 

“Trust me when I say, you are the safest woman on the planet right now.”

You tilted your head as you stared at her, and Hope shook her head. 

“I understand you’ve lost your memories?”  
“For the past eight years, yes.”

Hope slowly nodded. 

“Miss Ross, some very important events occurred in those eight years. Things you need to remember.”

You shook your head. 

“I can’t just make myself remember things. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Hope slowly nodded. 

“I need you to try harder.”  
“Why?”  
“Because you’re not the only one who’s lost something from those years.”

Your eyes widened, and you turned at the sound of footsteps rushing down the hallway. You blinked when you saw Betty and your father, narrowing your eyes when you saw the relief on his face. You jerked when you heard a quiet buzzing at your ear, lifting a hand to swat at the bug you couldn’t see. You turned back to face Hope, sucking in a breath when you found the hallway empty. 

“Y/N, you had us scared to death. No one could find you!”

You accepted Betty’s hug, staring over her shoulder, where the woman— Hope— had just been talking to you. 

She had … right?


End file.
